The Perfect Year
by J9
Summary: No-one notices when Leo goes missing from the New Year's Eve party...


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Title: The Perfect Year  
**Author: **Jeanine** (**jeanine@iol.ie**)  
Rating:** PG  
**Pairing:** Leo/Ainsley  
**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Aaron Sorkin and company...I'm just having a little fun, if that's what you call it!  
**Archive:** My site The Band Gazebo; Anywhere else, just ask.   
**Feedback:** Yes please. Don't make me beg.  
**Spoilers:** Mostly season two through to _Two Cathedrals_ and you can consider it AU from there.  
**Summary:** Leo disappears during the New Year's Eve Party.  
**Notes:** This was written in the summer, after hearing Dina Carroll's song _Perfect Year_ and when I'd not see most of season two, but knew the basic gist of what had happened at season's end. So this is canon up to _Two Cathedrals_ but no part of season three has touched it! It also has nothing whatsoever to do with _Stolen Moments_ and is a little bit of stand alone, New Year's, Leo and Ainsley fluff. 

***

Most of the Christmas decorations had been taken down from the halls of the White House by the 31st of December, their place taken by the silver and gold garlands which had been hung from every nook and cranny. A string quartet played in the ballroom filled with congressmen and senators, while President Bartlet and the First Lady made their way around the room, greeting as many people as possible. Every now and again though, they would make their way over to a certain corner of the room, to tease, or cajole or threaten the senior staff who were hiding there, hoping to avoid any semblance of work related talk - or in the case of one or two, the obligatory dance with the President or First Lady. 

In the midst of so many people, no-one noticed as Leo slipped out of the room. If anyone had noticed, they probably would have thought that he'd been called away for an important phone call - after all, the world didn't stop turning, New Year's Eve or not. Or they may have thought that he'd decided to slip out for some fresh air. In either case, it wouldn't have been something that they would dwell on. They would have made for another glass of champagne, talked to someone new, avoided talking to someone new, and in an instant, if even that, Leo McGarry would have vanished from their thoughts. 

But Leo wasn't leaving for a phone call, or for some air. Instead, he made his way down the halls of the White House, walking down several flights of stairs until he came to the Steam Pipe Trunk Distribution Venue. There was a slightly worried look on his face as he walked, which for once had nothing to do with the fear of being choked by his white tie. It was more of a perplexed frown that anything else. This cleared as he reached the bottom of the stairs and saw a light radiating from behind the blinds on one of the doors, knowing that he'd found who he was looking for.

"Ainsley?" he called as he approached the door, announcing his presence.

"Come in Leo," came the response.

He wasn't sure what he was going to see when he walked in. He certainly didn't expect to see Ainsley, sitting at her desk, a frown marring her perfectly made-up features, holding onto her shoe. "What in the world are you doing?" He couldn't stop a chuckle escaping. 

"Don't laugh at me!" she protested. "My heel broke, and since I couldn't exactly spend the night walking around barefoot, and I knew I had some superglue here, I came down to fix it."

"You have superglue in your office?" Leo settled himself into her visitor's chair.

She fixed him with a look that he'd seen before, usually trained on Sam or Josh when she decided that they'd said something particularly offensive or stupid. "I'm the lone Republican in a basement office Leo. My stuff has a way of breaking due to old age and disrepair. Of course I have superglue in my office."

Leo raised an eyebrow, knowing how unlike Ainsley it was to play the "lone Republican" card, especially with him. "How much did you have to drink?"

"A coupl'a glasses of champagne. Why?" 

"Because your accent is more pronounced than usual, and you're complaining about work to me."

"Point taken." She placed the shoe carefully down on the table, squinting at it as she assured herself that the heel was even, and that it wasn't going to tip over. When she was convinced, she leaned back in her seat, unconsciously mimicking his posture. "So, what brings you down here?"

"I missed you in the room," he told her. "So I came looking."

"That's sweet." A pleased flush suffused her cheeks. "Are you enjoying tonight?"

"So far, I've had to avoid three congressmen and two senators, been press-ganged into dancing with the wives of two other senators, and the First Lady, had to drag Josh away from Stackhouse when they disagreed on a point of order, and this tie is choking me." He pulled the offending tie away from him as he spoke. "You?"

"I've had to avoid the Republicans that want to ask me what in the hell I'm doing working here, and the Democrats who want to talk to me to get some dirt on the Republican in the basement. I've also been avoiding the President who wants to be sure that I'm comfortable in a bipartisan room, and Donna, who is hell-bent on fixing me up with Sam tonight, and I could be wrong but I think Margaret and the rest of the assistants are in on it too. And my feet are killing me in these shoes, which cost me a fortune which was totally wasted since the heel broke, except that I was nearly glad when that happened because I had an excuse to get out of there for a while."

Their eyes met over the table, and a gentle smile flitted across Leo's face. "I warned you about those shoes."

Ainsley rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Yes, you told me all about my shoes, and how they were going to hurt me, and you told me so…can we move on please?" There was a short silence. "But they do go perfectly with my dress."

He looked her up and down - as much as he could see when she was sitting down. "That they do."

There was a sly smile on Ainsley's face, and a glint in her eye as she stood up, walking around the table, ending up in front of him, leaning back against the table. "Do you like my dress Leo?" Her accent was more pronounced than it had been at any point that evening, and he found himself rooted to his seat as he looked her up and down again. Her gown was ice blue, the beaded bodice clinging to her curves. It was sleeveless, buttoned high on her back, and the scooped neckline allowed the small diamond chain around her neck to be shown off. The skirt was the same colour, flaring out thanks to layers of soft fabric. The heels she'd chosen to wear, one of which was on her desk, the other probably underneath it, were, by his reckoning, some three inches high, and roughly the same width as a pencil. Without them the edge of the dress swept along the floor as she moved, making a soft swishing sound. She looked incredible.

And when he recovered his powers of speech, he told her so, his voice husky. "Oh, I like that dress."

"You do?" Her head tilted, all innocence, hands behind her back, Leo could swear he heard hundreds of years of Southern Belles applauding her. 

"Very much." How come his throat was so dry? "You're the most beautiful woman in the room."

There was a mischievous look on her face now. "As beautiful as Senator Kaminsky's wife?" 

Leo laughed. Senator Kaminsky was a good thirty years older than his bride, and Mrs Kaminsky had caused something of a sensation when she entered the ballroom. To say that her dress hadn't been charged for per yard of material was understating the matter quite a bit, and there had been considerable quiet debate about just how it was staying on her body. CJ, with a derisive snort, had put it down to "the eyes of every man in the room." Leo hadn't told her how wrong she was. His eyes were fixed on someone entirely different.

Standing now, he made his way over until he was in front of the woman he'd been sneaking glances at all night. Slipping his arms around her waist, he whispered, "She's got nothing on you," before claiming her lips for a kiss. When they separated, she wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. "I've been wanting to do that all night," he told her.

"If I'd known that the dress would have that effect on you, I'd have worn it more often." She sounded immensely pleased with herself. 

"If you'd worn it more often, we'd have caused a scandal in the West Wing long before now."

She raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean I shouldn't tell you what I'm wearing underneath this dress?"

Leo groaned, pulling away from her slightly. "Not when we have to walk back into that room and make small talk for the next few hours."

She giggled, pulling him back to her, resting her head on his shoulder. "The answer, by the way, is not much."

He groaned again and held her tighter. Now that she was barefoot, her head fit perfectly in the hollow between his neck and shoulder almost as if they were meant to be standing there like that. "I'm sorry you're not enjoying yourself tonight," he murmured, as he kissed the top of her head.

"It's not so bad," she reassured him. "I just wish…" Her voice trailed off wistfully, but he already knew what she was going to say, because he was feeling the same way.

"I know. But at least we get to spend this holiday together." That was a milestone that they'd never yet reached. For Thanksgiving, he'd had dinner with the First Family; she'd spent the day with Donna and the rest of the senior staff at CJ's house. At Christmas, he'd flown to Manchester with the First Family at the President's insistence; she'd flown back to North Carolina. At least tonight they were together. 

He heard a dry chuckle come from Ainsley's throat. "I never thought I'd say this Leo, but the only thing worse than not being with you on the holidays, is being in the same room as you and not being allowed to get close to you. We haven't even danced properly."

"We danced."

"The same way you danced with Margaret and Donna and the First Lady…Leo, there was a foot of space between us!" When he looked down at her, he could see her pouting. When she looked up at him, the pout vanished, and she shook her head. "I'm sorry Leo. I'm just in a mood, and I'm taking it out on you."

"It's ok," he shrugged. "It's always ok."

Her head returned to his shoulder, and he felt her take a deep breath. "I hate New Years. Have I mentioned that I hate New Years?"

"I'm getting an idea." He fought to keep the smile off his face and failed miserably, reflecting that it was a good idea that she wasn't looking at him right then. He settled for rubbing her back comfortingly, familiarising himself with the beaded buttons for later reference. 

"All that ring out the old, ring in the new junk…it's so depressing. Don't you find it depressing?"

Leo thought back on the year that had just passed, and shook his head. "I'm not gonna be sorry to see the back of this one, that's for sure." She lifted her head, and her blue eyes were filled with sympathy. "After Josh last Christmas…the MS announcement…Mrs Landingham…next year can only get better."

"With re-election coming up? And the Congressional hearings?" Her scepticism was obvious, and she flinched as she heard the tone of her voice. "I should practice my supportive girlfriend routine huh?"

Leo chose to ignore that. "There was one good thing about this year."

"And what would that be?"

He bent his head to kiss her again as he spoke. "Finding you."

When she spoke again, there were tears in her eyes. "Leo…" she managed to whisper.

He cut her off by laying a finger across her lips, before letting it trail down to cup her chin. "I wish I could give you more Ainsley. I wish I could go upstairs arm in arm with you and announce this to the world. I want to dance with you in that ballroom, and not have to worry about what people say and what they think. But I can't. And I wish I could tell you that it's gonna get better. But it's not. And if you decide, next week or next month or whenever…."

Shaking her head, she raised herself on her toes and kissed him soundly. That had the desired effect of shutting him up. "You think I need all that stuff? I don't need a crowded ballroom…everything I need is here." She managed a shaky smile, successfully keeping her tears at bay.

He smiled down at her, marvelling that she was here with him, a feeling that he'd been experiencing more and more the longer they were together. He wanted to tell her that, he wanted to tell the world that they were together. Instead what came out was, "Want to dance?"

She laughed in surprise. "Here? With no music?"

"We can do something about that," he told her, taking one hand in hers, resting the other on her back. Their joined hands he placed over his heart as he began to hum softly. They were swaying gently when she asked him what the music was. "Does it matter?" he replied, and she smiled and ran her hand up and down his back before resting it on his shoulder. 

All too soon, he loosened his grip on her and stepped back, although he kept their hands joined. He tried very hard not to notice the slight slump of her shoulders, how the sparkle faded just a little from her eyes. "We should get back huh?" she asked him. He nodded, raising their joined hands to his lips. "You go first," she told him. "I should probably fix my make-up."

"Don't forget your shoes," he reminded her, then cursed himself mentally for saying something so stupid. He stopped doing that when he saw how the comment made her smile. 

"Leo?" He was at the door when her soft voice stopped him. He turned. "I meant what I said you know."

"I know." She turned to get her shoes, jumping when he spoke. "Ainsley?" She didn't turn. "As long as I've got you...no matter what happens next year…it's gonna be perfect." 

She faced him, and the smile on her face was brighter than any sun. "I know. And thank you for the dance."

He smiled. "Anytime." Closing the door behind him, he walked back to the party, humming a tune under his breath. He was talking to the President when he saw her re-enter the room, looking perfectly put together. He lost track of her for a while then, until he walked by her, as she was standing beside Donna. Donna was asking her a question, and Leo just caught the tail end of the conversation. 

"Ainsley, you've been humming that tune to yourself all night! What is it?"

Leo half-turned, and could see Ainsley looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "Just something I heard somewhere." He shot her a brief grin before going on his way.

The next time he saw her, he was gathered around the senior staff just before midnight. Josh had decided that they should have a toast, in honour of having survived the year, but no-one could decide quite what to drink to. Finally, Josh turned to Leo. "You're the Chief of Staff. You make the toast."

Looking around the group, Leo wondered if anyone noticed that his gaze lingered a little longer on Ainsley than on anyone else. Raising his glass, the perfect toast came to him. "To the perfect year."

Ainsley's smile assured him that it was the right thing to say, and he couldn't take his eyes off her as she raised her glass with the rest of the group. Her voice stood out among the others, made its way to him above the sound of clinking glass.

"To the perfect year."


End file.
